The Courtship of Gregory House
by Balanced
Summary: Wilson's cousin is getting married in Rome, and House is going as his plus one. Eventual Hilson..
1. Chapter 1

**A/N1: Written because how can they make an episode like "Black Hole" and create a House and Wilson scene like the one with the organ and expect anything other than long, fluffy goodness? Also, this is the first multi-chapter Hilson romance I've ever written, so be patient with me. Slash. Don't like, don't read.**

**A/N2: Oh, Huddy. How cheerfully I am going to rip you to shreds. No guilt, because we all do what we gotta do.**

**A/N3: When I went to France many years ago we flew to Texas for our layover, which is where I got the idea for the end of this chapter. It really does happen.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own House or even the name of the fic, which I commandeered from an episode of Charmed.**

_**The Courtship of Gregory House**_

Greg House never pretended to be a morning person. Normally he left his cell phone turned off Saturday nights so that he could fully sleep in on Sundays. He was finally-finally!- with the woman of his dreams and he wanted the feel of her body against his to last as long as possible. So it was to his deep annoyance that the very loud ringtone of Dancing Queen interrupted his weekend routine.

Cuddy stirred. "What…?"

"Cell phone," he explained. He leaned over her, fishing into the pockets of his pants lying on the floor to retrieve the offending device. "Wilson, it's too early," was his grumbling greeting. He glanced over at the clock and frowned. 7:45. "_Way_ too early," he amended.

"Get up," his friend nearly shouted. "We have a plane to catch."

"A plane," House repeated, fighting the residue of sleep still clouding his thoughts. He glanced at his girlfriend who was remaining suspiciously still. "Cuddy." He poked her in the stomach and was rewarded with a guilty grin spreading across her face. She took his phone and spoke into it.

"Head on over," she instructed the oncologist. "By the time you get here he'll be ready." With that, she flipped the phone shut and returned her attention back to the man who shared his bed with her.

"What's going on," House asked her. She made to slide off the bed but he caught her waist and pulled her back to him. He pinned her under him and kissed her deeply. "I asked you a question."

She grinned and slipped her arms around his waist. "As much as I love morning sex, what is going on is that you are going to Rome for a week with your best friend." She gently pushed him off her, and with a groan he rolled over onto his back. She rose and crossed the room to his closet, and pulled out a packed, oversized suitcase.

"Why are you under that seriously mistaken impression," he questioned. He didn't move his eyes from her as she slipped on a robe and started moving around the bedroom at top speed. It was one of the things that he liked about this relationship. The way Cuddy handled a predicament-going into overdrive, mother-hen mode. She walked into the kitchen and he heard the sounds of her making coffee.

"His cousin is getting married," she called down the hall. "He's in the wedding, and with the breakup with Sam, he needs a friend right now, so you are going with him to Italy." A couple of minutes later she appeared once more in the doorway with coffee in her hand. She offered it, just outside his arms length, so that he had to move from the bed to retrieve it.

Damn vixen.

With a heavy sigh he pulled himself upright, then stood, taking the cup. "What Wilson needs right now is a service a best friend cannot provide," he argued, nevertheless grabbing his jeans from the night before and yanking them on one-handed. "You were in on this?"

Cuddy smirked. "As Wilson pointed out, it's been our experience that the best way to get you to agree to go somewhere you don't want to go is to take the decision out of your hands."

"The two of you know me well. Of course I'll have to check with my boss."

"She says it's fine." She drew close to him and their lips found each other. Kissing Cuddy was a torrid affair, and just as House was wondering if he could meet Wilson at the airport a sharp knock at the front door interrupted their moment.

"It's for the best," Cuddy laughed off House's look.

House rolled his eyes and picked up his cane. "If you say so." He grabbed his suitcase and answered the door.

Wilson stood in front of him, a person-sized bundle of nerves. "Breakfast," he offered, shaking a bag of Dunkin Doughnuts.

"You should probably eat in the car," Cuddy suggested, leaving the two men alone for a moment. When she returned, she had a very tired little girl in her arms. "Give Rachel a kiss."

House frowned inwardly. Rachel was cute, yes, there was really no denying it. She was what one might consider a good fit for the House/Cuddy relationship. Well-mannered, a touch OCD about dirt and decidedly un-whiney for a kid. But House had never wanted to be a father, his girlfriend had known that from the beginning-from their very first kiss on that fateful spring night. Keeping any eye-rolling in check, he deposited a kiss on the child's head, then turned to her mother.

"I'll see you in a week," he told her, meeting her eyes with his own. God she was beautiful. She leaned in and softly pressed her lips against his.

"Hurry back."

And with that, the two men exited the apartment.

"You better love this cousin a whole lot," House muttered. Then he cocked his head to the side, hit by sudden déjà vu.

"I appreciate you coming," Wilson said as they got into his black Mercedes. His friend's penchant to keep up with the Joneses may annoy him 85% of the time but his taste in automobiles made up for that.

"Yeah well," was the most non-insulting response he could come up with. The drive to the airport was long, but made bearable by the presence of chocolate glazed doughnuts.

"So, what's your cousin's name," House asked as he stuffed the last doughnut into his mouth.

"Carly."

"And the groom?"

The hesitant beat made House glance at his friend. "Um, are you kidnapping me to be your sex slave?"

"You should be so lucky. No, it's just that there's not a groom-just another bride. Whose name is Danielle."

House's eyebrows met his hairline. "This is a… lesbian wedding? If you'd lead with that you wouldn't have had to trick me into this."

Wilson smirked. "It was more fun this way."

Thirty minutes later the pair sat in the pane headed, inexplicably, for Texas.

"Remind me why we're going south first, again," House questioned to pass the time.

Wilson pulled out a puzzle book and flipped to the Cryptograms. "If I say 'it was cheaper this way' are you going to berate me for caring more about finances than my family and friend?"

"Most likely."

"Then I have no idea."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N1: Thanks for the reviews and adds! You guys are the bomb which is why I'm spending the last few minutes before I go into work posting this.**

**A/N2: I make mention in this chapter of a card game called 'Kings in the Corner.' Not sure if anyone outside of my family has ever even heard of it before, but I figure, House always knows all kinds of random crap, so there's no reason why he shouldn't have picked it up somewhere. Please read and review.**

When they landed for their layover, the men made their way across the airport to a McHale's Restaurant and Bar. Neither was hungry, so they ordered drinks instead; then Wilson pulled a deck of cards from his jean pocket.

"What else you got in there," House quipped.

"I have no cash, so poker's out. Kings in the Corner?" The diagnostician shrugged, so Wilson dealt each of them 11 cards, then flipped over four in a cross pattern. House drew a card, then placed a black three on the four of diamonds. "Go."

As his friend picked up a card from the deck, he studied him carefully. The end of his relationship with Sam had come last week, and without preamble. One minute House was at home, listing all her negative qualities to his protesting girlfriend, and the next Wilson was standing at their door, his face a picture of misery. He seemed okay now, but he never had explained the details of the breakup. Any time someone brought it up he would emit a nervous guffaw of laughter, then exit the room. Cuddy had discouraged him from needling his friend until he caved with the explanation, but they were hundreds of miles away now.

"You ever going to tell me what happened with the dear Sammy?"

Predictably Wilson forced a laugh. "Your go."

He picked up the King of Clubs, then placed it in the corner of the cross. "Do you think I'm going to let this drop because we're playing a game? Have you _met _me?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

House placed the Jack of Hearts down, on the top of the Queen of Spades. He considered pressing harder, but if Wilson did get mad it would make for a long flight to Europe.

"I was surprised you agreed to come so easily," Wilson suddenly commented, causing House to inspect him again. "I thought for sure you'd throw a tantrum like a three-year-old."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"You and Cuddy have seemed so close lately."

"You think we can't separate for a week?" He flashed his charming-smile. "You're my best bud, Jimmy."

"If you say so," replied the younger man.

Okay, he had to change the subject quick. Self-pity made him tired. "So I need more information. Where are we staying?"

"Her parents own a villa in Le Marche, which is technically four hours outside Rome. It's where the wedding will be."

"And which day is that?"

"Friday. Rehearsal dinner Thursday."

"What'll we do the other days?"

Wilson looked up and House would have sworn that he saw a flash of something dart across his friend's face, but it was gone so fast that he couldn't place the emotion. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

It seemed impossible, but 17 hours, and one more layover later they practically fell out of the plane they were so happy to be on ground. "Carly's supposed to meet us here," Wilson informed him as they stepped outside, bags in hand. Right away they found the girl parked out front, driving a very small red car. At the sight of Wilson she let out a strangled cheer and leapt out of the front seat. As she pulled her cousin into a tight hug House carefully evaluated the scene. She was short, barely coming up to Wilson's shoulders, with a dirty blond bob and brown eyes to match his best friend. She turned to him now, and offered a hand. "You must be House," she expertly deduced.

Normally House would have blown off her attempt at friendliness, but the plea in Wilson's eyes forced him to take her hand and shake it. "Wilson's a liar," he explained before she got the wrong idea.

"You didn't stop him from becoming a cocoon of depression when Amber died, or you can't play, like, every instrument known to man? Because we have a grand piano."

House grinned. "Actually, I'm the liar."

There was some upheaval about seating arrangements-Carly insisted on sitting in the back, until Wilson reminded her that he really wasn't comfortable driving four hours in a different country. They compromised by Carly and Wilson taking the seats in front, and House stretched out in the back. As they drove the long distance to the villa, House stared out the window at the scenery and quietly listened to chatter about the pair's childhoods.

"You remember when you were six and decided that all Mom's roses were possessed by Satan?"

House glanced questioningly at Wilson who shrugged. "If she didn't want me to think they were all evil, maybe she should have grown some that weren't red."

House nodded. "Not enough light green roses, I say."

The corners of his best friend's lips twitched and House grinned in spite of himself. Making fun of Wilson was familiar territory.

"A few people have already arrived," Carly told Wilson a couple of hours later, as they entered the last leg of the drive. "Lydia got in yesterday."

"Dear God," Wilson moaned. This piqued House's interest and he looked asked stance at him. "My aunt-she's a nightmare."

"Not my mom," Carly elaborated. "Her sister. Step-sister, actually. James is still mad because of her toast at his wedding to Sam." She had said the magic word. Wilson flinched but said nothing else about it. Realizing her mistake, Carly rushed to continue. "Anyway, she's not saying at the villa. She and her kids are at a place in town. She's just visiting. Said she's not leaving until she sees your smiling face."

"Oh great," Wilson answered sarcastically, but he wasn't fooling House. He knew his friend well enough to see his shoulders relax in the presence of his family, his face clear of worry lines. It was strange to see Jimmy at ease.

City roads eventually turned into side roads which turned into dirt roads. The diagnostician assured himself that Wilson probably wouldn't approve of his lesbian cousin taking him into the middle of nowhere and slaughtering him mercilessly. He was suddenly glad he hadn't pursued his Sam-centered line of questioning.

Finally Carly made a left hand turn onto a long driveway, leading up to what House assumed was the villa. It was a three storied, yellow, stone building with dark brown awnings that accented the windows, and archways to mark the entrances. The car came to a (loud, screeching) halt and the three climbed out of the tiny automobile. House found footing with his cane, and impatiently waved away his friend's hands as he attempted to help. "Wilson," he warned.

The oncologist gave a nod of acknowledgement and quickly stepped back. As Wilson pulled out both sets of luggage out of the back, House used the opportunity to absorb the scenery in front of him. He nearly let out a whistle. Miles of countryside and mountains rolled out as far as he could see. It was like something out of a freaking greeting card.

At that moment the door swung open to reveal a woman he assumed to be the other bride-to-be. A woman in her late twenties, medium height with long black hair, paired with somewhat sever eyebrows gave the impression of hardness. When Carly reached her and she held out her arms to embrace her lover, the other girl, Danielle, seemed to soften.

Already he was getting a headache. "You gonna show me to my room," he asked Wilson.

The sound of an older woman's voice swept up to them, from the front of the house. "Danielle! Has James arrived yet?"

His best friend nodded. "Quickly, before Lydia sees me." Surreptitiously they slipped in the back door and up the stairs. "That was Danielle," Wilson panted once they reached the second story. There were four bedrooms on this floor. He stepped around the older man and led the way to the room in the back. Wilson opened the door to House's bedroom.

Slowly he walked inside and felt his eyebrows rise of their own accord. Spacious, decorated with a large queen sized bed against the far wall, a bedside table, and a chest of drawers on the opposite side. But the real center of the room was on the right hand side. Tall, French doors with long flowing curtains opened out to a large balcony, big enough for the table and two chairs set up. "God, Wilson," House muttered.

"I'm going to take a nap," Wilson told him from the doorway.

House hadn't been feeling any fatigue at all, but at those words he closed his eyes, imagining the feel of the bed beneath him. "Me too."

"Want company?" Wilson turned to him; the smirk on his face said he was kidding, but the glint in his eyes said something different. But it must have been a trick of the lighting because closer inspection showed nothing more than friendly banter.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been silent until a genuine smile spread across Wilson's face. "Are you listening to me?"

"No." And with that, he firmly shut the bedroom door.

* * *

Wilson did retire to his room, but he didn't lay down-not immediately. Instead, he reached into his bag containing all his bathroom supplies (the only one he'd felt certain that House would stay out of) and retrieved a small back notebook. He flipped to the first blank page and began the list he'd formulated in his head on the plane over. If House had actually slept during the flight he would have penned it then. Alas, his friend had spent the time cajoling Wilson to play an infectious disease version of 20 Questions, Hangman, and I Spy (which had only lasted one round because Wilson wasn't comfortable guessing diseases the other passengers might have-he didn't have enough hand sanitizer to cover his entire body). It wasn't until he'd finished that he gave the thing a title. And it was the title that made him smile.

"The Courtship of Gregory House."

* * *

**I hate the corny-ness of using the title in the story, but what can you do?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for the adds and reviews. Special thanks to George Stark II for the fabulous beta-ing.**

Two hours later House was suddenly awakened by the sound of laughter from downstairs, in the side yard, floating up through the open balcony doors. Sunlight streamed in, so it was presumably the same day, he guessed around seven or so in the evening. He continued to lie there in the silence until a voice from downstairs caught his attention.

"And at first everyone was saying that it wasn't the same disease that Ester had from before. But then the kid got worse, and even though House had predicted this all along they still doubted him when he told them it was Erdheim-Chester Disease. So what if the first test was negative? It's House." Whoever he'd been speaking to responded too low for House to hear. He stretched, then got to his feet, reflecting on his friend's words. Had he been bragging about him? It seemed that way. Well, to be fair, it _had _been a special sort of revelation. Truly, he was an inspiration to all.

He changed and went to find his friend.

It didn't take long. He exited the house through the side door and discovered an in-ground pool, in which his best friend was doing laps. He took the seat next to Carly and watched Wilson in silence. The long body moved with deceptive speed and he realized that he'd never seen his friend swim before. It wasn't exactly something they could do together since the infarction, and before that they had just never gotten around to it. He vaguely recalled Wilson telling him once that he was on the swim team in high school, but the only thing he'd taken away from that conversation at the time was that Wilson had grown up shaving his legs.

But now as he watched through narrowed eyes he was hit by legitimate surprise. His friend looked completely at ease in the water, like a… person-shaped seahorse or something. The fact that the water was clear meant that he could fully appreciate the small definition in Wilson's back as he moved his muscles to swim, the smattering of freckles dotting the oncologist's back. He'd seen his friend shirtless numerous times throughout the years, but he'd never had a hard time tearing his gaze away before. When Wilson came up for air and saw his friend watching him, he gave an embarrassed grin.

"Sleep good?" he asked from the water.

House gave a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I dreamed that the hospital was seized by a midget army and they refused to leave until we created a poison to slip to all their colic babies."

"Were we successful?"

"They killed Chase. What does that tell you?"

"Dear God. Were you at least able to get the name of his conditioner beforehand?"

"Dream-Chase refused to give it up. Something about you not having enough hair for it to be worth it."

"Like you have so much room to talk." Wilson turned and dove back into the water.

"You guys have been friends a long time," Carly commented.

He'd kind of forgotten she was sitting there. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Many years. Many ex-wives." Struck by inspiration, he asked, "Do you know why he and Sam split up? This time?"

Carly didn't take her eyes off the pool, which he took to mean that she was about to lie. "I'm not sure."

Bingo! Now just how to get the story. "It's just," he pulled his sad, caring face, "that if I'm going to help him through this, it would be much easier if I knew why she kicked him to the curb."

Wilson's cousin was silent as she took in this information. "If he's not saying then there's probably a reason. He'll talk about it when he's ready."

House sighed and tried not to reach out and throttle her. Why was this such a secret? If he'd cheated, big deal. He cheated all the time. If she'd cheated, then that was fantastic news—it would finally give House the excuse to slash the tires on her car, which he'd been fantasizing about for weeks now anyway. So why the code of silence? What could have happened that he would think _House_ would care? Yes, there would be the obligatory period of harassment but it would pass.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the other lesbian, Danielle, holding a cordless landline in her hand. "It's for you," she told the diagnostician with an unfriendly frown. She dropped it on his lap, and took the seat on the other side of her girlfriend.

"Hello," he said into the speaker piece, knowing who it was, imagining her sitting in her office chair twiddling with one of her curls.

"Greg," came Cuddy's warm voice. "You got there alive?"

"Seems that way," he returned. He glanced back to the water just in time to catch Wilson get out of the pool, and was taken aback. Drops of water covered every inch of the oncologist's body and as he ran a finger through his thick brown locks, House felt his stomach fall ten stories. He blinked and tried to tune back in to his conversation with his girlfriend. "How's everything there?" Was it his imagination or did his voice sound half an octave too high?

Cuddy didn't seem to notice anything. She simply laughed and replied, "Let's just say your team is feeling your absence. Nobody's dead yet, but it's early."

"I've only been gone a day." He tried to think of something to say, some tidbit to tell her that would make her feel like he wasn't quite so far away, but the good boyfriend thing was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Wilson pulled his chair around so that they were shaped more like a triangle than a straight line and in the process brushed House's arm with his own. The older man swallowed hard.

"I miss you," Cuddy said, a gentle reminder of the conversation on earth, and he knew he had to say something.

"I'll be expecting proof of that when I get home." In his mind's eye he saw her smile.

They said goodbyes, and he hung up and passed the phone back to Danielle, who was speaking to her fiancée. "Derek called while you were out. Said he's going to be able to make it after all." The expression on her face definitely gave the impression that this was not pleasant news to her.

However, Carly grinned and leaned back against her chair. "Good! We went to his wedding, it's only fair."

"He's divorced now," Danielle muttered.

Wilson had been watching the exchange as well, and asked, "Derek …Mitchell? As in, your ex fiancé, Derek Mitchell? You invited him to the wedding?"

"He's a friend."

But House was still hung up on the tale end of Wilson's questioning. "You were engaged to someone named Derek? You're bi?"

"Nope," Carly answered. House glanced at the other two, neither of whom looked surprised at her reaction.

"Closeted?"

"Nope."

"I'm running out of options here."

"Straight."

House eyed Danielle suspiciously. "Drop your pants."

"Danielle is a girl, it's true," Wilson's cousin said. "She's my exception."

Okay, what the hell? He needed clarification. "And by exception, you of course mean…?"

"She's the only girl I've ever loved. We met two years ago right after Derek and I had ended our engagement and something just clicked." Her eyes slid to Danielle's, then back to House. "Sometimes two people just find each other."

Was it his imagination or was Wilson watching him, gauging his reaction? "I don't believe that," he snapped. Then he got to his feet and went inside.

"You're a little high strung about their relationship." He shouldn't have been surprised that Wilson chose to follow him. "What do you care about what she feels? If she loves Danielle-"

"She doesn't," he argued. "Carly is _your_ family. Why aren't you more invested in this than you are? Someone lives life as straight for twenty some-odd years and continues to say she's straight, yet she chooses one girl that is her supposed "exception"? She's setting herself up for a lifetime of misery and you don't even care!"

"I believe her," Wilson responded lowly. "And you have every right to _not_ believe her. But what I find so confusing is why you look like you're ready to take a swing at me."

House looked down and realized that one hand was curled up into a fist, and the other was gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Yes, he was prone to overreaction, but even he couldn't explain his sudden fury with the situation. He took a deep breath to cool his temper and then faked as genuine a smile as possible. "Probably just sleep deprivation," he told his friend. Wilson seemed to believe him. "I'm going to go lie down. Just call me before dinner." And as he trudged back up the stairs, he determinedly ignored the way the hair on the back of his neck was still standing up from his friend's touch several minutes earlier. —


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews and the adds. They are my reason for being. And thanks to George Stark II, my fabulous beta-reader.**

**A/N2: Sorry this chapter took so long. It was rather determined to drive me crazy. **

"Well, really, that couldn't have gone better," Wilson groaned sarcastically when he returned to his cousin and Danielle. He collapsed into his seat.

Carly laughed and leaned back against her chair. "I thought it was a nice touch that the day you arrive you find a way to get half-naked."

Wilson grinned back, coloring slightly. He wanted to correct his cousin and argue, quite honestly, that it was a coincidence but he knew neither girl would believe him. Nevertheless, he hadn't been thinking about the pool when he'd first collaborated with Cuddy.

Cuddy. God. Just thinking about his long-time friend back in New Jersey made his heartbeat speed up and his face redden again, this time with shame. He thought back to when he'd bought the loft out from under her and remembered that he had thought, at that moment, that would be the worst thing he would ever do to the woman, _could_ ever do to her.

He hadn't known what he was capable of.

But he hadn't asked for her help. He knew that in no way absolved him of guilt, but she was never supposed to be involved (aside from the fact that it was her relationship he was trying to sabotage, of course). But Lisa had seen the damn invitation on his desk, poking out from underneath Dennis Bane's terminal cancer file. Cuddy was a smart woman and she had asked too many pointed questions for him to be able to lie convincingly. Until she'd assumed he merely wanted House's company because of his recent breakup. She trusted him, was what it came down to.

"I'm going to make dinner," Danielle announced, standing. With a quick peck to her fiancée's temple, she walked inside.

"You okay over there?" Carly asked him.

"Just wallowing in self-indulgent contrition."

"Oh, well if that's all." She rolled her eyes. "I'm assuming we're talking about the girlfriend back home?"

Wilson shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had been doubtful about sharing the story with Carly to begin with, but he'd had to tell someone. "Yeah."

She was silent for a long moment, staring out at the water. "Well, I guess it's good that you feel bad. You _should_ feel bad. You're doing a seriously sucky thing to someone you care about."

"Great. Is this you being supportive?"

"Sorry." She gave a comforting smile. "But you love your friend?"

He shrugged. "I'm pathetic."

"And you think he loves you?"

"Sometimes."

"Then focus on that. If she's not the one he really wants then he's not being fair to her anyway."

"Are you really trying to tell me that I'm doing Lisa a favor by stealing her boyfriend?" Wilson asked incredulously. "I'm not sure she'll see it that way."

"I'm done trying to help you," Carly replied in exasperation.

Wilson smiled and changed the subject. "Should we be helping Danielle with dinner?"

"I'm not allowed in there while she's cooking. She's afraid I'll do something apocalyptic like add salt or something." But she stood anyway. "We could set the table though."

Yanking on the tee shirt he'd been wearing before he dove into the pool, Wilson trailed behind her through the side door and into the house.

"So, what's the next phase of your seduction plan?" Carly inquired as they pulled plates from the dining room hutch.

He was in hell. "Please don't call it that. This isn't 'Cruel Intentions'—-I'm not trying to steal his virtue. I just want him to realize that he loves me back. It's romantic."

Carly arched her eyebrows. "When did you see 'Cruel Intentions'?"

Half an hour and a long shower later Wilson quietly knocked on House's bedroom door. No answer, so he knocked a little louder. He was half-tempted to wake his friend the way he'd been fantasizing (yes, he was definitely pathetic) about for months now, but he grudgingly supposed he had to draw the line somewhere.

There was the shuffle of footsteps, then the door swung open. House stood in front of him, looking completely rested and the alert blue eyes paired with his friend's trademark smirk sent a small shiver up his spine.

"I had a dream that I was an asshole to your cousin and flipped out on you over something you have no control over," House told him.

"Huh. That doesn't sound like you."

His friend grinned a little wider. "That's what _I _thought." He sniffed the air and glanced at Wilson. "God, Jimmy. Does the Wilson family have some sort genetic component that ensures every one of you guys comes out cooking like Wolfgang Puck? It makes everyone else look bad."

"Danielle made it, and she's not a Wilson." He blinked. "Actually, neither is Carly. Adopted. Maybe that's why her fiancée won't let her near the food." He gestured to the hall, and House followed him down the stairs.

The girls were already sitting at the table, serving themselves helpings of lasagna and bread.

"Hey, James," Carly began once the men were seated, "Danielle and I have wedding-type stuff most of the day tomorrow, until my parents get into town. Will you and House be okay on your own?"

Wilson tried not to roll his eyes at his cousin's quick wink that his friend, thankfully, missed. Probably because he was inhaling his dinner.

"Easy there, tiger," Wilson teased, relieved at the opportunity to have something else to focus on.

House turned to Danielle, who was eating in silence, watching the other three. "Marry me?"

She looked up and regarded him blankly. "Um. No."

Wilson snorted into his drink. "Ahh, well. Better luck next time."

They finished their meal and as Wilson and Danielle cleared the table, the oncologist saw his friend wander into the living room. He placed the last plate in the sink, then headed into the other room himself. Before he arrived, though, he discovered the nature of House's interest. The sound of his friend playing the beginning cords to Moonlight Sonata met his ears. He rounded the corner and found Carly lying on the couch, listening to the slow music.

He walked across the room and stood by his friend, watching the long fingers move effortlessly across the white keys. He'd forgotten how, well, beautiful it was to see the diagnostician play. Narrowed eyes, slowly rocking back and forth with the music. He loved it, and there weren't many things House loved.

As though reading Wilson's thoughts the older man looked up. Brown eyes met blue and Wilson felt his heart skip a beat.

House sighed dramatically, halted Moonlight Sonata, and switched gears to a different song, same composer. Beethoven's Fur Elise suddenly filled the room.

"James's favorite," Carly noted from the couch.

Wilson watched a shadow cross his friend's face before the older doctor replied, "I know."


End file.
